Cas had to sit across from me, as if he wanted me to stare at him all evening. (Okay, so maybe I was the one who secured this seat first. But still.) He even took my prized mug. What a jerk. What a perfect jerk.
My mom's asking all the usual questions. "So you work at the grocery store?"
Cas nods and works on swallowing a mouthful of stuffing. "Yeah, I started when I was fifteen."
"And you like it?"
"Yes. A lot, actually." He takes a sip of milk and his eyes stray to mine. When he puts his cup down, he has a milk mustache. I shake my head with a smile.
"Do you live nearby?"
He tilts his head to either side, as if considering this. "Relatively. Over in Burgess."
"I bet your family's nice."
He nods. "Yeah, they are. There's kind of a lot of us, though." He takes a bite of potato before he continues. "I'm the oldest. Then there's my sister - Ari. She's thirteen. And my brother Ben is eight. Plus my mom and dad. So family vacations are a blast."
I shove my stuffing around my plate with my fork, then stab a small chunk of bread.
"Do you know where your going to school?" Wow, didn't see that one coming. That's like the staple adult question nowadays.
"Not yet, but my top school is U of T." I perk up at that. The University of Toronto is one of my top schools as well. I want to major in Music Performance - Violin, specifically. Maybe I'll become a music teacher someday. But I also want to write. And I want to paint. I really have no idea where I'm going in life.
Neither does Cas, apparently - he tells my mom he doesn't know what major he wants to pursue. "Confused young adults unite," I pipe in, and he grins at me, saying, "Let's start a club. We'll meet in the grocery store and strum banjos and pursue world peace." I tell him I'll contribute my violin, and then we're both laughing and before I know it we're clearing away the plates.
I'm sticking some in the dishwasher when my mom's like, "Cas, don't you have to be getting home?" I do not like that idea. He should stay for a while. Possibly forever.
Cas glances at his watch. I hadn't noticed before that he was wearing one. "Uh, I should probably call my mom and let her know where I am," he laughs. "I kind of forgot to do that. Excuse me." He disappears into the living room. I turn back to my dishes, knowing what's coming.
Mom pops up at my side and intones immediately, "Sparrow, he's gorgeous."
Some kind of strangled, embarrassed noise comes from me as I hide my face. "Stop it!" I squeal. I can feel my face flaming. "I know!"
Her signature laugh, loud and smooth, fills the kitchen, and she bumps me lightly aside. "Go show him around. I'll take over the dishes." I look at her, and she gives me a glance and a wink before she turns to the dishes that need to be done.
When I get to the living room, the floor transitioning from hardwood to carpet, Cas is just getting off the phone. "Hey," he smiles, slipping it into his pocket.
"What's happening?" I ask.
"She just wants me stay safe. Basically. I'm sure I'll be fine to drive home in the dark." We both glance at the window - light's fading from the sky, but the snow is ever bright.
I look back at him. He looks back at me.
"Wanna... see my room?" I ask suddenly.
His gaze moves to the stairs, then back at me. And he smiles. "Sure."
- Cas -
The first thing I say is "The walls are purple. I'm not surprised."
She laughs and socks me lightly in the shoulder. I stands in the doorway, looking around reverently, even somewhat afraid I'll break something if I take a step forward.
Sparrow plunks down on the bed, which is near a window that looks out onto the driveway. It's framed by white Christmas lights - in fact, they line the whole room, situated where the ceiling meets the wall. Why do cute girls always have Christmas lights in their rooms? There are posters of things. Harry Potter, Divergent, Homestuck - whatever that is. And surrounding the larger posters are all these smaller pictures - drawings, photographs, and quotes from things. It's like a massive collage taking up one whole side of her room.
She ends up next to me somehow. "So what's the verdict?" she asks, glancing at me with a smile. The fairy lights reflect in her eyes, and they seem darker than ever.
"It's very... you," I reply. I approach the collage and peer at a photo of Sparrow with a group of friends. They're all grinning - looking spiffy in business attire and wearing colored lanyards around their necks.
"Those are my Model UN friends," Sparrow explains. "I was Denmark."
My finger touches the photo-Sparrow. "Your lanyard is purple."
"I'm sorry! I really freaking like purple!"
The next thing in the collage is a quote - "Let's focus on what's important in life: friends, waffles, work." Can't deny that. Another quote: "Stay gold, Ponyboy." There are many quotes, all situated on paper of different colors and shapes and sizes. My eyes land on a few photos in a cluster - a girl in a field wearing a flower crown, lit from behind by a setting sun; two guys laughing together in black and white; a dog whose face takes up the whole frame. "Did you take these?" I ask.
She nods. "I like photography." She says it in a sort of exhalation, like it's no big deal. "Sometimes I take photoshoots with my friends."
"Is there any art form you're not into?" I laugh. I have never been much of an artist myself.
"Dancing. I can't dance."
"You're in luck." In a swift motion, I pull her close to me - my hand is on her waist, and the other clasps her left hand. "I took ballroom dance when I was fourteen."
Resting her other hand lightly on my shoulder, she laughs. "What fourteen-year-old boy takes ballroom dance -"
But I'm already whisking her around the room, which is surprisingly spacious anyways. Her hand tightens around mine, and she laughs again as she stumbles on my feet. She won't meet my eyes - her cheeks are pink. "Just follow my feet," I instruct her gently. We twirl around in the same circuit a few times before she starts to get it, and then we move easily around the room.
"You're pretty good at this," I tell her, slowing us down a little. Finally, her eyes meet mine, and she gives a small shrug. "I love listening to waltz music."
I have a brief vision of her dancing around her room on her own, and it makes me smile. She smiles back, then looks down, her lashes veiling her eyes. For a moment, I let go of her hand, using it to move a strand of blonde hair off her cheek. She freezes.
My phone rings, sharp and loud. I dig into my pocket, and Sparrow takes a step back from me, her hands leaving mine. I can already feel the absence of her warmth. My mom's picture is flashing on the screen as the phone vibrates wildly in my hand. I've always thought the whole vibrating-noise-flashing thing that cell phones do is slightly overwhelming. Exasperated, I answer the call.
"Hello?"
"Caspian, are you still at dinner?"
My eyes stray to Sparrow. She's admiring her collage silently, hands clasped. "Yes?"
"Can you come home? I know I told you you could stay a while, but your dad isn't home yet and Ben is screaming that he wants you to build Legos with him." She pauses, and in the background I hear my little brother yelling something unintelligible. "Can you make it?"
"Of course," I reply. "Where's Ari?"
"Ben doesn't want to play with her."
I look around Sparrow's room, feeling disappointed. "Okay. Be right there."
My mom says goodbye, and I hang up the phone. Sometimes I am the only one who can appease my little brother. Sparrow's looking at me expectantly, her elaborate collage forgotten.
"My mom wants me to come home," I say in disappointment.
Her face falls a bit. "Oh." She hesitates, her eyes urgent. "Okay. Well... thanks so much for coming." She steps forward and clasps her arms around my torso, her face hidden in my chest. I drape my arms around her shoulders. She's so tiny.
Eventually she takes a step back and we walk down the stairs. Sparrow's mom comes around to the bottom and smiles at us as we descend. "You leaving, Cas?"
"Yeah," I say. Once I'm at the bottom I give her a light hug. "Thanks for dinner. And for having me."
"Come back whenever you want," she tells me. "Our doors are open." I laugh a little and look over at Sparrow, who's holding up my coat with a grin.
I take it from her and slide my arms in, tucking it in around me, preparing to leave the cozy little foyer. "Okay," I begin, unsure of what else to say. "Goodbye. Thank you."
And now I'm on the other side of the door and walking down the snowy steps, and Sparrow's waving at me, and I smile and wave back. Then it's closed and I'm alone, getting in my car and heading down the snowy roads toward home.
- Sparrow -
I forgot to thank him for teaching me how to dance.
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